I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for. You were meant to read these words.

Some of the entries I love! <3

You think I’m doing this to be romantic. Standing in public spaces and airing my heart out, oxygen in the blood and all that never was. I’m not doing it to be romantic. I’m doing it because it’s fucking necessary.

Love is another name for magic.

And though the waves might bring you down and though the currents might pull you under, the sky is always still right above you. And your friends will show you the way.

You could be right. You could be wrong. Remember this. Especially the second part. Being wrong allows you to take responsibility for your actions. It allows you to change. Constantly needing to be right, doesn’t.

And though the waves might bring you down and though the currents might pull you under, the sky is always still right above you. And your friends will show you the way.

People will wish you all the success in the world. And then hate you when you get it.

And you asked why people always expected you to smile in photographs. And I told you it was because they hoped that in the future, there would be something to smile about.

The bumps and scratches along the way give you texture. We call this texture: life.

Just so you know, there are days when I’m a complete and utter insecure, paranoid wreck.

Look at you, like a new tattoo. Because I might not always have you but I’ll have the feeling of you for the rest of my life.

Life doesn’t give you a second canvas. So all you can do is paint on. And, sometimes, even over.

The heart is a muscle like any other and the best exercise you can do for it is called picking yourself up off the floor.

You think you’re waiting for help. For someone to tell you what the right thing to do is. Even though, at the back of your mind, you already know what that is. So all you’re really waiting for, is a time when you’re forced to do it.

There are so many people reading these words now that if you put your hand against the screen, I can promise you, no matter what time it is, no matter where you are, someone else who feels the same is doing it too.

Forget about your lists and do what you can because that’s all you can do. Phone up the people you miss and tell them you love them. Hug those close to you as hard as you can. Because you are always only a drunk driver’s stupidity, a nervous shopkeeper’s mistake, a doctor’s best attempts and an old age away from forever.

You can be in love and you can be in a relationship. But they’re not always the same thing.

All I can do, if I feel this way, is trust that somewhere in the universe, there’s a you that feels the same.

Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.

And you taught me what this feels like. And then how it feels to lose it. And you showed me who I wanted. And then who I wasn’t. And you ticked every box. And then drew a line. And you weren’t mine to begin with. And then not to end with. And you looked like everything I wanted. And then became something I hated. And you get thought of every day. And then not in a good way. And you let me leave. And then wish I’d stayed. And you almost killed me. But I didn’t die.

Yet, no matter how accurately you write it or mumble it under your breath, it won’t change the way things stand between you. A poem, let alone a paragraph, is not a magic spell. And the only people who can write those stay in padded rooms, listening to music no one’s ever played.

That’s what you don’t get. To find two people who have the same heart isn’t a coincidence. It’s a God damn miracle. And it happens every day.

All your work. All your play. None of it compares to one night spent next to the warm body of someone you love. You need to learn this sooner rather than later.

You’re just another story I can’t tell anymore.

We’re a city of aliens. Pretending to be people we’re not until we’re comfortable enough with each other to be who we are. So only you know who I am.

Out of 1000 hearts, I had to choose you. One of the comets sent to Earth to burn brightly, explode and turn to dust in my atmosphere.

I never stopped loving you. Because I never stopped breathing.

There’s not enough soil in the earth for how deep I want to be buried. There’s not enough water in the oceans for how slowly I want to sink. There’s not enough fire in the sun for how brightly I want to burn. There aren’t enough words in my head to say all the things I can’t. There’s not enough blood in my body for all I need to bleed. There’s aren’t enough couches in the world for how long I want to sleep. There’s not enough life in me, for all I want to live. All I’ve had enough of, is you.

I know you’re still out there. And I’m still waiting.

No matter where you go, bring your love with you.

As soon as you think you’re done, you are. Keep growing. Never be done.

Don’t be shy. You can take another piece of me. Everyone else already has. Until there’s nothing left. Until I disappear.

And though love is a drunk, sleeping off its hangover in the gutters between the years, you need to smile at the bitch anyway.

You are more than the people and things you know. You are more than your memories. You are something beyond all this. But only you know what that is.

I remember more the time we spent driving nowhere than the fancy dinner. I remember more the time we spent laughing and drawing than when we stepped on stage. I remember more the silence in each others arms than the conversations about how we felt. I remember more of what I didn’t expect to remember with you.

You make me want to drink water. Not soda. A salad. Run every morning. Get enough sleep. So when I end, I’ll know I had all the time I could get, with you.

I don’t care how many fish there are in the sea. I don’t want a fish. I want you.

You are a drop of perfect in an imperfect world. And all I need, is a taste.

That song you keep playing is nothing but a photograph you look at with your ears.

Let’s play hopscotch in malls. Let’s drive fast with the top down. Let’s turn up the music as loud as it’ll go. Let’s put a couch on an island in the middle of the freeway and wave at everyone on their way to work. Let’s hug strangers in parking lots. Let’s hand out secret messages at traffic lights. Let’s make lists of all the things that make us smile and tick them off, one at a time. The world will carry on without you and me when we’re gone. Let it carry on without us, today.

You need to love you. If you cannot love yourself, no one else can either.

Everything lives on as long as you remember. But once you’ve forgotten, it rests in peace.

You can walk into a room and spot them. They seem fine when you talk to them but every now and again, across the room, you catch them looking off into the distance at an invisible point that maybe, they once reached. They laugh a little different. They hesitate a little more. Now they know what it feels like. And something about their eyes when they listen to music says: ‘Turn it up until my ears bleed. Let it be the last thing I hear.'

Because you’re looking for a date, not love. Because you’re more interested in who you go to bed with than who you wake up next to. Because you tick boxes in your head instead of crossing lines in your heart.

You’ll either make the choice yourself or the universe will make it for you. So there’s really nothing to worry about.

This place could be a paradise. All that it’s missing, is you.

When you’re at the top, remember what if felt like at the bottom. When you’re at the bottom, remember what it felt like at the top. Good doesn’t last forever. Neither does bad.

You are defined by the way in which you treat the people you love. And, the people you hate.

There are a million ways to bleed. But you are by far my favourite.

"This is the one." The universe assures me from behind the counter. “But I thought you said the last one was the one.” I reply. "No." Says the universe. "I sold you that one so you would know that this, this is the one." "Is there another one?” I ask the universe. "I can’t tell you." They reply. "It’d ruin the surprise."

Forget the air. I’ll breathe you instead.

I’m sure you’ve met them. They say they’ll put you back together while they’re tearing everything apart. And they use the type of lips you can taste for years.

I want to weave you into me. Stick your thorns in and grow. Bleed sap and feel this shining light. Grow strange leaves. Bear this fruit.

You can have the entire world around you and yet still be completely alone.

Or, you could just sit back and decide to enjoy life. To make do with what you have. To be happy. Right here. Right now.

I made a lot of mistakes before I got to you (each one honest and none that I regret). The same way a tree bends in the wind and twists and turns, before it can touch the sky.

You want a new life. But you take the new one you get every morning for granted.

You are responsible for your own actions. Whether you shine or not is entirely up to you. No one else.

When I look up at night, all the constellations look like you.

We all know what’s happening here because it’s happened before. Like an avalanche, there’s nothing we can do about it so we don’t even need to speak. But this time, if we’re covered by the ice and snow, I will hold you tight. I will keep you warm.

I guess I should say thank you, for cutting all my strings. But if it’s all the same to you, I wish you’d left my wings.

There are a million important things to do. But none as important as lying here next to you.

I can look anywhere in the world but at you. And it hurts to look anywhere in the world but at you.

You are not there. Somewhere in the future, suffering for something that hasn’t happened yet. You are not there, in a place where all your worries manifest. You are not there. Somewhere in the past, reliving your old mistakes and regrets. You are not there, in a place where memories resurrect. You are here, right here.

If it doesn’t happen magically over night, you might want to try doing it manually, every day.

“I’ll see you at your funeral, if you’ll see me at mine. I’ll wait at the edges for your ghost to rise (until the end of time). We’ll find someplace nice to haunt, an abandoned beach house filled with memories of summer sunburns. Children will giggle as we tickle their feet at night and they’ll never know the bad dreams we fight. We’ll make our own heaven. Walking in places we used to walk until death, dies.

You buy things and you keep them clean. You take care of them. Keep them in a special pocket. Away from keys and coins. Away from other things that should be kept clean and taken care of as well. Then they get scratched. And scratched again. And again. And again. And again. Soon, you don’t care about them anymore. You don’t keep them in a special pocket. You throw them in the bag with everything else. They’ve surpassed their form and become nothing but function. People are like that. You meet them and keep them clean. In a special pocket. And then you start to scratch them. Not on purpose. Sometimes you just drop them by accident or forget which pocket they’re in. But after the first scratch, it’s all downhill from there. You see past their form. They become function. They are a purpose. Only their essence remains.

You constantly look for a sign and when it’s given to you and you don’t like the answer, you call it a coincidence. There are no coincidences.

Wish you were here. Wish I was there. Wish it was different. Wish wishes came true.

Who you want to be is not nearly as important as who you are right now.

There’s nothing scary about choice. Scary is when you don’t have choice.

You will not save the Earth, gunning down aliens from the back of your Hummer. You will not save the Earth, smashing zombies in the face with a spade. You will not save the Earth, standing on a burning car (your fist in the air). You will not save the Earth by deciding which wire to cut (red/blue) at the last second. You will save the Earth when you decide to start picking up your shit. You will save the Earth when you decide to start picking up your shit on the beaches. You will save the Earth when you decide to start picking up your shit in the fields and in the streets. You will save the Earth when you decide to start picking up your shit in the hills. And we shall never surrender.

You should eat to fill your stomach, not your soul. And drink to numb your thirst, not your pain.

Those above you, will one day be below you. Those below you, will one day be above you. That’s why you always treat everyone, as those beside you.

Why do you do what you do? Is it to impress those around you? Your family? Your friends? Your lover? Do you do it to make money? To live in a nice house? To buy things that can't be scratched? Or do you do it because you love it. Because it lets you finish each day with a smile on your face and a thought in your mind. "Today I did the best I could do. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to."

Failure is the universe’s way of telling you to either try harder or try something else. Nothing more. Nothing less.

You may call this life whatever you wish to call it. An adventure. A challenge. A call to arms. We will call it history.

Learn four new things everyday. Something about yourself. Something about the people you love. Something about the world. And something about a stranger.

Burn through. Become the light. You are not yet done.

Do it once. Then do it again. The more you write, the more you paint, the more you sing, the more you dance, the more you live, the better you get. It’s that simple.

If you don’t want to be average then just try one little bit harder than everyone else around you. That’s it.

The world will be ready for you. When you are ready for the world.

You weaved a mystery for the world just by being who you are. It was only when we had some perspective that we realized how beautiful it was. Thank you for being you.

You could just be a camera. A camera on two legs that films the things around it. Slowly recording the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks and years as they pass. Or you could be more.

I love you. I love your eyes. I love your smell. I love your hair. I love your laugh. I love your skin. I love everything inside you. And I’ll try to make all the parts that I find, happy. Because you make me happy. So much.

Never love to be loved in return. You are playing a fool's game. The love you have is its own reward.

What you make by hand will never match what you make by heart.

You are never as broken as you think you are.

I am nervous. I’m afraid. But I will stand here in the white hot heat of you. I will play Russian roulette with your playlists. I will tell jokes I’m not sure you’ll find funny. I will hold on until there is no more reason to. And in the end, I will break the stars and resurrect the sun.

Today was the first time I understood what it meant when the moths don’t die for nothing. Remember: I don’t do things for shits and giggles.

If you find yourself inside yourself, scratching at the edges and clawing at the walls, breathe more. Think less. Your shadow is only a shadow. And stay away from mirrors. They will only confuse you.

And maybe I’ll sleep at the station because there’s nothing to go home to but an empty fridge and some stale mayonnaise. And maybe I’ll make friends with the guys sleeping under cardboard boxes and newspapers and we’ll discuss what it means to love and to live. And maybe I’ll wander the city, one lost particle in a dust storm of Mondays, late nights and reports due yesterday. And maybe I’ll get on a plane or a ship and get lost in places I’ve never been lost in before. And maybe I’ll keep my phone on me in case you call. And tell me there’s something to come home to.

What the people around you think of you isn't important. What you think of them, is.

Time grabs you by the hand and pulls you fast. Sometimes faster. And we don’t notice at first because we’re all still shocked at being alive.

Soft earth outside, water, grass and flowers, trees above that, clouds, sky and sun, stars all the way to forever and you somewhere in the middle, remembering me where I fell. So I’ll smile when I die, no matter what they do to me. I did all I could and nothing less. Over my dead body.

Don’t be afraid of the world. We’re just all the people you could’ve been.

I don’t know if you felt that or not. But it felt like two people kissing after hours of thinking about it. It felt like two people talking after nights of silence. It felt like two people touching after weeks of being numb. It felt like two people facing each other after months of looking away. It felt like two people in love after years of being alone. And it felt like two people meeting each other, after an entire lifetime of not meeting each other.

You could ink yourself until everyone knows all the things you love. You could wear uniforms that gave you all the authority in the world. Lose weight until there was nothing left. Paint the face. Suck in your gut. But in the dark, stripped down to your bones, all that remains is you.

“The sky was made so clear that sometimes, at night, you can see the far blue edge of forever behind distant suns. Yet, nothing’s that clear here, and I’m sitting right next to you.

Oh shut up. Every time it rains, it stops raining. Every time you hurt, you heal. After darkness, there is always light and you get reminded of this every morning but still you choose to believe that the night will last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good or the bad. So you might as well smile while you’re here.

If you’ve got the time, we can play a game. It’s easy. We just see if I’m the same shape as the space you have inside you. If everything fits, we both win. If it doesn’t, don’t force it. That’s how you get splinters in your heart.

These aren’t consumers. They’re people. These aren’t foreigners. They’re people. These aren’t civilians. They’re people. These are people. They are people. And one on their own is a person. Just like you.

You remember and dwell on all the things you’ve lost and ignore all the things you haven’t. Because your scars are like stars. Yet the night stays perfectly black.

You have people looking after you everywhere you go, even if you don’t know they’re there.

Love has always had a plan for you. That doesn’t mean you get to know what it is.

If all you’re concerned about is winning, you’ll never stop worrying about losing.

You have this idea of what kind of movie your life is and you expect the characters you cast to behave a certain way. To read from the script. But the best ones never do.

If you hate someone, you hate yourself. If you hurt someone, you hurt yourself. If you love someone, you love yourself.

You close your eyes when you cry. That's ok. Just don't keep them closed too long. Things have become beautiful since you last looked. There's nothing more to cry about.

You wake up with a list of all the people you'd rather be. But you're already on everyone else's list.

The bad news is, people are crueler, meaner and more evil than you've ever imagined. The good news is, people are kinder, gentler and more loving than you've ever dreamed.

You can try and hold me back. Build your damn walls, pack sandbags along the edges and yell at the clouds and the rain and the sky to stop. But I will not relent. I will reach you. Because I am the sea. And I will continue to love you no matter what.

You held up your hand, curled your fingers in and said, "This is how big your heart is. As big as a fist." I held up my hand, closed it over yours and said, "No. My heart will always be bigger than your fist."

Being gifted doesn't mean you've been given something. It means, you have something to give.

I'm with them because, despite everything, I still love them. And while you might walk in and find me punching a wall, it's only because I want to kiss their lips. There's no revenge here. Love doesn't hate back.

Here's to you. Because I've never met anyone who makes a better you, than you.

The only reason I have this job is so that I can afford the bed you and I share each night.

If the type of person you wish existed doesn't, then that is who you must become.